


Pas de Deux

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lost RPF
Genre: Community: 14_valentines, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-02
Updated: 2007-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, I have stooped to the level of providing free heterosexual porn in the name of <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/"><b>14valentines</b></a>.  This little PWP is for the women in the arts day, and I'd like to encourage anyone who can to donate even just a little to <a href="http://www.ncartsinaction.org/how-you-can-help/donate.html">North Carolina Arts in Action</a>, or alternatively to the art and music programs at your local primary school.  Schools everywhere desperately need arts funding, and this is often the first thing to be cut from an ailing institution.  But we cannot survive as societies without culture, and the best way to get students excited about culture is to start with education from an early age.  <strike>And now, on to the porn!</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	Pas de Deux

Dom had been planning to walk straight through the living room and continue on to the kitchen where he could grab a cup of tea, but when he saw Emilie he stopped dead in the doorway.

It wasn't even eight am, and she was dressed and awake—a fact that surprised him. What was more surprising though, was that in addition to her lacy eggshell-white camisole and faded blue jeans Emilie was wearing a pair of ballet slippers. Her blonde curls were wound tightly at the crown of her head, the ends poking through the bun in a happy burst of freedom, and her back was straight, her posture perfect.

He stood there gawking as she gripped the low windowsill in front of her, at chin height, and slowly pulled herself forward so that the edges of the pink satin shoes, already pressed against the baseboard, slid outward, her pelvis scooting forward along the wood floor until her upper body aligned with the wall in a perfect split. Her arms reached over her head, long fingers extending gracefully, and Dom groaned.

"Jesus."

She didn't start, just smiled, and turned her head to pin him with a particularly mischievous expression, a naughty come-hither look at the edge of a giggle that caught him right between the legs, his hand dropping down automatically to adjust himself in his shorts.

"You have a thing for ballerinas, Dom?"

She did giggle, then, and he crossed the room in a few steps, crouching down behind her and pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck as his hands skimmed up her sides, pushing the flimsy fabric up until his fingers were brushing the sides of her breasts.

"I didn't know you still danced," he murmured, nibbling at her ear. She smiled and brought her hands down again, slowly, resting her elbows on the sill and crossing her arms.

"That's only because you've spent the entire weekend fucking me," she reasoned, ignoring his needy little groan. "Not much time to suss out my extra curricular activities."

"_Jesus_," he whispered again, reverently. "You treat your husband like this?"

"Sometimes. You molest your girlfriend like this?"

Dom laughed and shook his head, wayward strands of sleep-tousled hair brushing her cheek. "Don't think Evi would let me."

Emilie smiled brightly and turned from the waist, catching his lips in a little tugging, playful kiss. "You ever danced, Dom?"

"Me?" He quirked his brows and shrugged. "In clubs, sure."

"No, not in clubs, silly. Ever tangoed or anything? Waltzed?"

"With my mum when I was five. Had to wear these bloody patent leather shoes for a wedding. Pinched like the devil."

Emilie laughed and nudged him back, then drew in her legs and stood. "C'mon. I'll teach you a little pas de deux."

"Pas de who?"

"You do yoga; you're flexible. Dance isn't so different."

"I'm bloody clumsy is what I am. How about you dance and I watch?"

Emilie laughed and shook her head, pushing up a bit on her toes to kiss him. He looked down with half an eye, and yes, indeed, she was standing _en pointe_. His cock twitched a little.

"C'mon then. Over to this corner."

Dom sighed and followed obediently, stopping where Emilie indicated.

"Do you think you can lift me?" she asked, and he raised a brow.

"What would you call last night, up against the wall?"

She laughed and shrugged. "'S different. Endorphins."

"Think I'm not operating on endorphins now?" he challenged, palms pressing flat against her hipbones and tugging her quickly back so that the top of her arse rubbed against his erection. She just giggled again.

"All right, then. This should be easy."

Dom gave her a sceptical look, but let her position him how she wanted, and teach him a series of steps; chassé, step, step, lift, step, step, guide her through a turn, step, and dip. It wasn't so difficult, really, except that she was beautiful and he was just plodding along behind her. But it was nice—her beauty gave him a purpose, made him important as a means of support. It was nice.

"C'mere, Dom."

"What?"

"C'mere," she insisted, tugging him forward and placing his hands at her waist. "Dance with me."

"Thought I was," he muttered, and she smiled and shook her head, popping up on her toes with a dull creak in her shoes to tug at his earlobe with her teeth.

"No," she whispered, sliding a leg gracefully between his thighs, her centre of gravity moving as the toe of the shoe slid forward on the wood floor, forcing him to support her slightly as the pebbles of her nipples beneath satin pressed against his bare chest. "_Dance_ with me."

"Bloody hell," he muttered as she laced her fingers behind his neck and pressed that leading thigh just a little harder, and then he found his inspiration and lifted, easily, her giggles encouraging him as he spun her in two full circles, her trailing leg describing a spiral as he simultaneously moved forward, away from the centre of the room. The movement ended as her back pressed against the wall and his hands pushed up her breasts, fingertips kneading flesh and muscle as she landed again on her toes, moaning as her head tilted back and his teeth attached to her neck.

"This kind of dancing, I rather much like," he murmured into her neck, grabbing one of her thighs firmly in his hand and relocating it to the outside of his own, pressing it there as her knee bent and her toe shoe brushed the back of his own knee.

"Fuck me, Dominic," she whispered, using the leg wrapped around him for leverage as she pushed up, then sank back down to the sole of her foot as he pulled his cock out and popped the buttons of her jeans open and wiggled them down just enough to bend his knees and push up, into her.

"Fuck!" she cried out, the sound ripped from her throat as he growled possessively and thrust up into her once, twice, three times, the movement hard and jarring her, scraping her back against the wall before he pulled out and helped her get her jeans the rest of the way off and her black bikini underwear with it. And then he found a condom and pushed her down onto the couch and kissed his way from inner thigh to the arch of one satin-enclosed foot before hooking it over his shoulder and pushing into her again, cupping his hand under her neck, making her moan.

Dom nibbled on her throat as he fucked her, needy, lifting her hips from the cushions with the force of his cock's jabbing rhythm until he finally growled and came and bit out her name like a curse, and then pulled out and crawled back and worshipped her body with the flat and tip of his tongue until he was stabbing it into her as his thumb rubbed mercilessly on her clit and she came, begging and moaning.

"Jesus," he murmured, stretching out like a cat and then tugging her to him protectively.

She giggled and sighed and kissed his neck. "I think you found your rhythm," she whispered, and stroked his calf with the toe of her shoe.


End file.
